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tasted all the pleasures of childhood again； thanks to the strange
hallucination of apparent convalescence； which is not unlike the
pauses of delirium that nature mercifully provides for those in pain。
He went about making trifling discoveries； setting to work on endless
things； and finishing none of them； the evening's plans were quite
forgotten in the morning； he had no cares； he was happy； he thought
himself saved。
One morning he had lain in bed till noon； deep in the dreams between
sleep and waking； which give to realities a fantastic appearance； and
make the wildest fancies seem solid facts； while he was still
uncertain that he was not dreaming yet； he suddenly heard his hostess
giving a report of his health to Jonathan； for the first time。
Jonathan came to inquire after him daily； and the Auvergnate； thinking
no doubt that Valentin was still asleep； had not lowered the tones of
a voice developed in mountain air。
〃No better and no worse；〃 she said。 〃He coughed all last night again
fit to kill himself。 Poor gentleman； he coughs and spits till it is
piteous。 My husband and I often wonder to each other where he gets the
strength from to cough like that。 It goes to your heart。 What a cursed
complaint it is！ He has no strength at all。 I am always afraid I shall
find him dead in his bed some morning。 He is every bit as pale as a
waxen Christ。 DAME！ I watch him while he dresses； his poor body is as
thin as a nail。 And he does not feel well now； but no matter。 It's all
the same； he wears himself out with running about as if he had health
and to spare。 All the same； he is very brave； for he never complains
at all。 But really he would be better under the earth than on it； for
he is enduring the agonies of Christ。 I don't wish that myself； sir；
it is quite in our interests； but even if he didn't pay us what he
does； I should be just as fond of him； it is not our own interest that
is our motive。
〃Ah； mon Dieu！〃 she continued； 〃Parisians are the people for these
dogs' diseases。 Where did he catch it； now？ Poor young man！ And he is
so sure that he is going to get well！ That fever just gnaws him； you
know； it eats him away； it will be the death of him。 He has no notion
whatever of that； he does not know it； sir； he sees nothingYou
mustn't cry about him； M。 Jonathan； you must remember that he will be
happy； and will not suffer any more。 You ought to make a neuvaine for
him； I have seen wonderful cures come of the nine days' prayer； and I
would gladly pay for a wax taper to save such a gentle creature； so
good he is； a paschal lamb〃
As Raphael's voice had grown too weak to allow him to make himself
heard； he was compelled to listen to this horrible loquacity。 His
irritation； however； drove him out of bed at length； and he appeared
upon the threshold。
〃Old scoundrel！〃 he shouted to Jonathan； 〃do you mean to put me to
death？〃
The peasant woman took him for a ghost； and fled。
〃I forbid you to have any anxiety whatever about my health；〃 Raphael
went on。
〃Yes； my Lord Marquis；〃 said the old servant； wiping away his tears。
〃And for the future you had very much better not come here without my
orders。〃
Jonathan meant to be obedient； but in the look full of pity and
devotion that he gave the Marquis before he went； Raphael read his own
death…warrant。 Utterly disheartened； brought all at once to a sense of
his real position； Valentin sat down on the threshold； locked his arms
across his chest； and bowed his head。 Jonathan turned to his master in
alarm； with 〃My Lord〃
〃Go away； go away；〃 cried the invalid。
In the hours of the next morning； Raphael climbed the crags； and sat
down in a mossy cleft in the rocks； whence he could see the narrow
path along which the water for the dwelling was carried。 At the base
of the hill he saw Jonathan in conversation with the Auvergnate。 Some
malicious power interpreted for him all the woman's forebodings； and
filled the breeze and the silence with her ominous words。 Thrilled
with horror； he took refuge among the highest summits of the
mountains； and stayed there till the evening； but yet he could not
drive away the gloomy presentiments awakened within him in such an
unfortunate manner by a cruel solicitude on his account。
The Auvergne peasant herself suddenly appeared before him like a
shadow in the dusk； a perverse freak of the poet within him found a
vague resemblance between her black and white striped petticoat and
the bony frame of a spectre。
〃The damp is falling now； sir；〃 said she。 〃If you stop out there； you
will go off just like rotten fruit。 You must come in。 It isn't healthy
to breathe the damp； and you have taken nothing since the morning；
besides。〃
〃TONNERRE DE DIEU！ old witch；〃 he cried； 〃let me live after my own
fashion； I tell you； or I shall be off altogether。 It is quite bad
enough to dig my grave every morning； you might let it alone in the
evenings at least〃
〃Your grave； sir！ I dig your grave！and where may your grave be？ I
want to see you as old as father there； and not in your grave by any
manner of means。 The grave！ that comes soon enough for us all； in the
grave〃
〃That is enough；〃 said Raphael。
〃Take my arm； sir。〃
〃No。〃
The feeling of pity in others is very difficult for a man to bear； and
it is hardest of all when the pity is deserved。 Hatred is a tonicit
quickens life and stimulates revenge； but pity is death to usit
makes our weakness weaker still。 It is as if distress simpered
ingratiatingly at us； contempt lurks in the tenderness； or tenderness
in an affront。 In the centenarian Raphael saw triumphant pity； a
wondering pity in the child's eyes； an officious pity in the woman；
and in her husband a pity that had an interested motive； but no matter
how the sentiment declared itself； death was always its import。
A poet makes a poem of everything； it is tragical or joyful； as things
happen to strike his imagination； his lofty soul rejects all half…
tones； he always prefers vivid and decided colors。 In Raphael's soul
this compassion produced a terrible poem of mourning and melancholy。
When he had wished to live in close contact with nature； he had of
course forgotten how freely natural emotions are expressed。 He would
think himself quite alone under a tree； whilst he struggled with an
obstinate coughing fit； a terrible combat from which he never issued
victorious without utter exhaustion afterwards； and then he would meet
the clear； bright eyes of the little boy； who occupied the post of
sentinel； like a savage in a bent of grass； the eyes scrutinized him
with a childish wonder； in which there was as much amusement as
pleasure； and an indescribable mixture of indifference and interest。
The awful BROTHER； YOU MUST DIE； of the Trappists seemed constantly
legible in the eyes of the peasants with whom Raphael was living； he
scarcely knew which he dreaded most； their unfettered talk or their
silence； their presence became torture。
One morning he saw two men in black prowling about in his
neighborhood； who furtively studied him and took observations。 They
made as though they had come there for a stroll； and asked him a few
indifferent questions； to which he returned short answers。 He
recognized them both。 One was the cure and the other the doctor at the
springs； Jonathan had no doubt sent them； or the people in the house
had called them in； or the scent of an approaching death had drawn
them thither。 He beheld his own funeral； heard the chanting of the
priests； and counted the tall wax candles； and all that lovely fertile
nature around him； in whose lap he had thought to find life once more；
he saw no longer； save through a veil of crape。 Everything that but
lately had spoken of length of days to him； now prophesied a speedy
end。 He set out the next day for Paris； not before he had been
inundated with cordial wishes； which the people of the house uttered
in melancholy and wistful tones for his benefit。
He traveled through the night； and awoke as they passed through one of
the pleasant valleys of the Bourbonnais。 View after view swam before
his gaze； and passed rapidly away like the vague pictures of a dream。
Cruel nature spread herself out before his eyes with tantalizing
grace。 Sometimes the Allier； a liquid shining ribbon； meandered
through the distant fertile landscape； then followed the steeples of
hamlets； hiding modestly in the depths of a ravine with its yellow
cliffs； sometimes； after the monotony of vineyards； the watermills of
a little valley would be suddenly seen； and everywhere there were
pleasant chateaux； hillside villages； roads with their fringes of
queenly poplars； and the Loire itself； at last； with its wide sheets
of water sparkling like diamonds amid its golden sands。 Attractions
everywhere； without end！ This nature； all astir with a life and
gladness like that of childhood； scarcely able to contain the impulses
and sap of June； possessed a fatal attraction for the darkened gaze of
the invalid。 He drew the blinds of his carriage windows； and betook
himself again to slumber。
Towards evening； after they had passed Cesne； he was awakened by
lively music； and found himself confronted with a village fair。